Harry Potter and the Quidditch match
by Anna Groarke
Summary: The Quidditch Final


Anna Groarke 10HT  
  
Chapter 10  
  
The roaring of the crowds echoed in Harry's ears. His palms were sweaty, his eyes bright with excitement. The team were nervous, shifting from foot to foot, clutching their broomsticks with anticipation. The cheers were deafening, the stadium filled with expectation, the tension was almost unbearable. Everyone had turned up to watch; this was the big one, the final.  
  
"Remember the tactics! Remember the tactics!" Wood's words chorused through Harry's head, words that had been drummed into him every morning for months on end.  
  
Harry was the best Quidditch player in Hogwarts; everyone knew it, apart from Harry. He was always a bag of nerves before a match, but once he was out there, the wind in his hair, he was a different person. It was almost as though he was part of his broomstick, he was as good as his father had been in his day.  
  
"Please give the teams a warm reception!" boomed a deep, dramatic voice from somewhere in the clouds, above the crowd's head. "Put your hands together," he paused importantly. "For the house players - the finalists of this year - Gryffindor and Slytherin!"  
  
The stadium erupted with cheers as the players mounted their newly polished Nimbus 2000's and soared skywards. Madam Hooch blew her whistle, the Quidditch final had begun.  
  
A Mexican Wave rippled round the stands as the chasers raced up and down, passing the quaffle expertly between them, dodging the bludgers that were hurtling towards them, and finally hitting the quaffle home through the enormous hoops at either end of the stadium.  
  
Ten minutes to go, both teams were equal, it was down to the seekers now. Whoever caught the golden snitch would win, for their team, the prestigious Quidditch cup.  
  
The long running feud between Harry and Malfoy, the Slytherin seeker, reached its peak at times like this. Both had their eyes peeled for any movement in the cavernous arena. In fact, their concentration was so great, that neither of them noticed the huge black shadow engulfing the stadium.  
  
They descended like a swarm of flies, their wings beating thousands of times per second, the light glinting on their sharp teeth and their evil little eyes searching the crowd for anything shiny. These were the pixies; they wanted anything that glistened.  
  
Rings, necklaces, cloak clasps, earrings were all torn from their owners. Screams and shouts filled the humming air as pupils and staff alike desperately grabbed for their belongings, squealing as the pixie's vicious teeth buried into flesh. The teachers were chanting charms and spells as fast as their wands could go, trying to get rid of the little pests, but to no avail, there were just too many.  
  
Only the most skilled players had managed to stay on their broomsticks. The rest had either run for the safety of the changing rooms, or were on the floor, wrestling with a pixie or two, trying to regain their possessions.  
  
Dodging, diving, swerving, holding on for dear life, Harry and Malfoy circled the stadium, skilfully avoiding the fast little creatures.  
  
" Just give up now Potter, you're never going to win! Slytherin deserve to!" shouted Malfoy to Harry, over the loud hum that surrounded them.  
  
"Keep your opinions to yourself Malfoy, Gryffindor are the best, we will win!" retorted Harry confidently, not looking up, trying to keep his balance whilst dodging the pixies that were flying towards him like bullets.  
  
Below them, the teachers were gaining control. Dumbledore had managed to contain most of the pixies with a complex entrapment spell and the other teachers were picking off the remainder.  
  
Then Harry saw it, glistening teasingly by one of the hoops at the Gryffindor end. He swung the nose of his Nimbus round and dived groundwards, keeping his body close to the well-polished wood. A sharp shout from Malfoy told Harry that he had to be quick.  
  
But they were not alone; Harry heard the humming getting closer before he saw a determined little face speed past him, destined for the Golden Snitch. This called for desperate measures; Harry reached for his wand.  
  
"Sonavio Freezosio!" shouted Harry pointing his wand at the pixie, who was just inches away from it now. The creature froze in midair and Harry zoomed past it, hand outstretched, Malfoy at his shoulder. 


End file.
